the vintage typewriter waits,
its keys resting beneath a page
that resists becoming ordinary lines
from that subdued expanse,
a mountain rises,
a cabin folded into stillness,
a blue stream slipping through
the distance the page imagines.
small white birds drift above the picture,
as though the typewriter has released
fragments of a dream instead of words.
they hover like thoughts rising
from inside the mind,
tiny wings carrying them
toward whatever waits beyond.
the light from the desk lamp
falls across the picture,
a gentle benediction~
remind me that creation begins
when machinery yields
to imagination.
the page becomes a world,
and the world becomes a doorway
through which the writer steps,
carrying only the brightness
that first rose from the keys.
Out of the Universe's
innumerable starry throng
by chance we meet
not for long
One day from me you will vanish
or I from you,
although we don't wish
dissolved in time's unyielding beat,
never to be together
nor again meet.
Except you live in mind,
and I linger in yours,
till forever you and I wane
into the immeasurable expanse.
In this vast crowd
I clasp your hand, lest
I should lose you in the bustling fuss.
Plains under the skies
Grass flooding the horizon
Green all in your eyes
Written on August 8, 2021
My private universe
resides far beyond the cosmos
and into galaxies yet unfound.
Man’s mortal eye
cannot appreciate
the vastness of beyond.
My private universe
encompasses all, yet nothing.
It is much too profound to contain.
No human sought
to walk moist, spongy shores,
none to drink its knowledge.
My private universe
oozes with untold adventure
and pictures of never-before-seen
frames from my mind.
Caricature creatures
silently syphon words,
Unfitting to exist.
So many leave the fold of traditional religions
Bristling at all their manifold restrictions
Mustn't eat this, shouldn't drink that
Always cover your head with a hat
What they say is little doubt very true
Based on the now-popular point of view
Wherein after this world came into being
All of life's random chance, with no foreseeing
So if we're nothing but tiny specks of sand
If there exists no grandiose master plan
Then all those 'Don'ts' don't mean a hill of beans
Rather, let's eat and drink to satiation, by all means
But if the sweep of sun and moon and planetary stars
If ocean, forest and desert, the cosmos near and far
Begs us ascribe the universe to intelligent design
Then to follow the Designer's rules, is by no means asinine
...my heart expands within our love as your angelic eyes pierce my soul...
Dec.18.2018
One Liner
Sponsored by: Silent One
~will be popping in & out...holiday break~
...happy holidays everyone :)
Placed 3'rd...Thank you
The bird flies with wings spread wide
Soaring with wind currents side to side
Clear in the open blue skies expanse
In a beautiful sight of freedom’s dance
Swaying back and forth above in the air
In a kind of release to watch and stare
If only we could take such graceful steps
Through days we move, not leaps to be leapt
Without obstacles, just freedom that ensues
I watch, I ponder, while I walk, I wonder
About all the things that are out of reach
While nature’s life continues to teach
Heidi Sands
8/21/17
Expanse of Time
The past is a bridge where I once stood tall upon a time
when chocolate was rationed and oranges were only eaten
at Christmas and it was a sensation when a ship loaded
bananas came in. I was proud then of my heritage, we were
special and the future was a beautiful landscape.
the bridge, made of wood took fire and fell into the river
that had stopped flowing we had used too much of
the world’s resources and now the future was unpredictable
as we naked stood on the holy mountain the earth shook
and humbled us- This year the banana boat will not come in,
the vines, dry and wizen was not a future I had foreseen.
Floral expanse
Roses in vivid colours that smiled in glamour,
Red blood to be garlanded at valour,
White lilies bunching hearty and serene,
Catching lovers' fancy to the extreme,
Lavenders at the crest of mountains,
Challenging beauties of the terrains,
Merrigolds shining bright with sunrise,
Worshipping aroma to no surprise,
Dahlia, orange and yellow poppies dance,
Oleander with their pink flowers put us in stance,
Irises swayed taller on their stalks,
Bougainville like trumpets' melody outlast,
Bluebells borrowed colour from the sky,
Yellow dandelions woke up in golden bright light,
Tulips were as bright as showers,
Their beds flamed like throbbing rings of fire,
Forming shadows were rows of white flowers,
On azure coloured ground like trails of shooting stars,
Tiny wildflowers illuminated the grass,
Like jewels in the dust to nature's sarcast !
Written November 27th, 2014
For contest 'Encounter with flowers' by Anthony Slausen
Awarded HM
Entered into contest "Theme #2- Flowers- Old poems" by SKAT A
Awarded 9th place win
When you ask what is it that stirs my soul
Why, I have no words to tell you about it all
Except that, in my soul, lies hope
I do hope that someday,
Somewhere even, life is understood as being but a play!
Hope that somehow, life and love can be mixed up
That the lion and the rabbit together can sup
That God has at last opened His eyes
That He has heard the world's cries
And that I can walk safe, even all alone, on a dark road!
If you ask me what is it that stirs my soul
Why, I shall tell you that is what I believe to be my own call
The reason I took birth
If not to imbibe my peers with faith
At least, I do have the opportunity to bring them to good sense!
If not to show them the reason to love
Even if I am denied of its meaning
At least I can show them how to live with its being
How to be brave
In a world which is heading towards its own grave!
My soul is so old, so bold
In its expanse, the entire world can be fold
Probably it is even older than creation
So what stirs it, is none other than the mysterious
None other than the power and ways of the Lord, so gracious!
One of the beautiful things about Siberia it is a sea of grass
Like purple color of the soul Roth grass
And flowers like Siberian corydalis hides in the grass
The surreal beauty of flowers sends its divine fragrance through the ocean of grass
The grass covers the endless expanse
This is what inspires poetic romance
The sea of grass in which wind whispers soul will in trance
Among the grass the bears and tigers hunt and antelope will dance
The smell of freedom is mesmerizing
As the father time and mother Earth give birth to daughter spring
Of destiny connected to very abyss the nightingale will sing
The echoes of his voice lift the soul to place fit for a king
The grass is not it but it reflects the visage of genetic zero point
And if one looks for nirvana the fields of Siberia will not disappoint
As with sublime universal energy the spring is conjoint
And can completely lift one to divine viewpoint
Shimmering blues catching the light..
Like dew droplets on a chilled morn..
Clouds motionless, filling the sky..
their soft silken shuffle, reflecting upon the silent sea..
Mighty peaks rising from the pebbled shores..
Stretching their ancient bones towards the burning sun...
Scents of pine and wildflowers mixed, floating on the breeze..
Man's footprint here is just that...
A small mark...
Like an ants step on shifting sands...
The earth uncut and unmarked...
Eyes see not what surrounds, they see what is not...
Who stops their churning to witness the dawn?
to watch butterflies dance?
to stand and smile in the rain?
to truly see life and feel alive?
We are disconnected in our connection...
Lost with all roads ahead,
In the great expanse of tomorrow......TAH
great minds
not lured in by the need
to assert power over
others,
but yet to invigorate
themselves &
others,
simultaneously,
hand the baton of
knowledge, practice,
discovery, utilization &
progress,
from hand to hand
(as one dies the next
begins---like one candle
lighting another
infinitely),
in an ever expanding
fascination,
when staring out into
the cosmos,
egging on the populace,
whose own growing love
for science is something
so beautiful that it evades
description---
one just has to smile,
having enough time in a day
to sit down with a fresh
book/ebook,
taking the moment to embrace
the personal unknown,
in the attempt to continue
fostering a scientific literacy
within,
so that very understanding
can be passed on,
from friend to friend,
family member to family
member, parent to child &
between children,
in hopes of widening our
minds,
together---
regardless of all those
useless, dogmatic cogs,
who would have us do
otherwise.
This victim of self like a snake
Broken heart to devour my pride
And then what coils around will awake
Ouroboros eating his lies
This hero of truth like a trance
All black and white in this haze
Where my sword in the darkness will dance
Behind my shield I dream for days
This hatred for life like a game
Noisy conflict unfolding the scenes
And within each of the players a pain
Now their silence gives birth to teams
This wisdom of love like a dare
Will I speak of such deep disease
When what I am is too much to bare?
On the edge and with no release
This painting is not a man
Nor child, not even real
I am the constantly changing sands
And there is nothing I can not feel
I will become every fall
I awake to remember the words
That encumbers the many tall
And have silenced all those that heard
This truth can not change its rhyme
Only reflect on those that hide
And the heart ever heeds the signs
Drawn to the changes within the tides
Spry of step, your clover feet
green with chlorophyll oil
sugared the soul, contained, complete
bergamot imprinting soil
You are a butterfly shy of wings
tethering a cloud in your net
Immersed in the wonder that wonderful brings
you give just as much as you get
Swept of hair, eyes of blue
imprinted with languid desire
Imagining me, Imagining you
From the earth to the sky, even higher.
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